


Too Late To Save Myself From Falling

by orphan_account



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Best Friends, Domestic Violence, Evil John Reid, Friendship, M/M, Not RPF, Swearing, Violence, protective bernie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-18 22:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As John's abuse escalates, Elton falls apart. Bernie is not going to sit back and allow it to happen.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: THIS IS NOT REAL PERSON FIC. THIS IS ROCKETMAN FAN FICTION and is based solely on the depictions and events from that amazing movie. I don't claim to know Elton John, John Reid or Bernie Taupin or any other real persons contained in this fic. 
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> So, Rocketman's brilliance has inspired me to write again. I'm a little rusty, haven't written anything new for years, so sorry if this isn't good!
> 
> I have found the toxic relationship between Elton and John in the movie very triggering and felt that I needed to write something, so this happened. It was going to be two part one shot but I'm getting more ideas all the time where to take this so its now going to be multi chapter and me really exploring Elton's relationships with John and Bernie. I hope you enjoy it.

It was the welcoming noises of the fresh morning, the bird song, the traffic, and the bright sunshine that startled Elton John awake. He moaned softly and brought a weary hand up to his eyes, to protect them from the glare of the sun. What time was it? No… wait. What day was it?

He strained to remember what had happened last night. Another night, another show, another city. Another crowd. Another outrageous costume, another after show party. And typically, another argument with John.

That was the norm recently. All he and his boyfriend ever did was argue. Nothing Elton did was good enough. That’s how it had started to feel anyway.

He closed his eyes. Had it got nasty between him and John last night. He tried to remember but it was a blur. His eyes were sore, and his head ached. He wondered if he had been crying again. Probably.

He cringed as the spiteful words, aimed to hurt him as much as possible, came back to him.

_“Look at you. Look at the state of you! What must all these people think of the great star, Elton John? You’re a fucking mess. An embarrassment.”_

 Elton wondered what he had done to deserve those cruel words this time. Had he had a bad show? He didn’t think so. But it’s not like he could remember. He crawled out of his bed and called out for someone to come to him. John or anyone. He needed coffee. And the papers. He needed to see a review of the show the night before.

People paid a lot to see him… he needed to know…

A memory sprang into Elton’s brain, an angry statement he had made to someone who had been genuinely concerned for him. Definitely not John. When was John ever concerned for him these days anyway?

_“People don’t pay to see Reg Dwight; they pay to see Elton John!”_

Elton covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Oh god. Had he argued with Bernie? He NEVER argued with Bernie!

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Bernie didn’t argue with him. He was always trying to push his oldest friend as far as he dared. But Bernie would not rise to it. Never would. Bernie never raised his voice to him. He never judged him, no matter the provocation. He was always calm, always trying to get through to Elton, to the friend that was buried deep in there somewhere, under the clothes, the alcohol, the drugs. Under the phenomenon that was Elton Hercules John. And yet Elton was always still trying to get under Bernie’s skin. Like it was a competition for Elton to try and push the one friend who had always stood by him, who truly knew him, away.

Because Elton didn’t deserve Bernie. Neither did Reg. He never had.

Elton called out for coffee once again and then, swearing loudly, he grabbed his gold dressing gown, throwing it on. He stormed toward the door. What was taking so long anyway? He needed coffee NOW! What did he pay these people for…?

He opened the door, and quickly backed up when he saw John standing there, as calm and contained as usual, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand. He was dressed as impeccably as ever, in his suit, without a single flaw. John raised an eyebrow at Elton and jerked his head, giving him wordless instructions to sit back down. Elton did so.

After a pause, he said, with a smirk:

“Not feeling very patient this morning, then?”

He gave Elton a cold smile and placed the coffee cup down on the bedside table.

“I’m not surprised after the night you had.”

Elton took a moment to compose himself. He knew John was going to make the most of this – Really fucking enjoy it. That was his way after all. Just stand back and watch and observe – and then when Elton was at his weakest, John would go for the jugular and then the whole process would begin again, and round and round they would go, forever trapped in a loveless, toxic cycle. How Elton wished he had the strength to walk away. But he didn’t and never would have. John had made sure of that.

He finally looked John in the eye.

“How was the show?”

John shrugged. “It was good. People were happy. You’ve sounded better. But it was passable. We made our money.”

He went to the window and looked out. “The pool needs cleaning.” He noted. As usual, Elton couldn’t hold his attention for long.

So, Elton spoke up again.

“Did we fight last night?”

The slow turn of the head and the smirk he got in response to that was all the confirmation he needed. He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked.  But John wasn’t about to let that go so easily.

“You got wasted, like you _always_ do. I was there to clean up the shit – literally – like I _always_ am. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Elton held up his hand, “Not really…” he replied. “Look, John, Whatever I did…”

John scoffed. “What you did? You did what you always do. Make a fool of yourself, and me as well, in front of all our guests. You had one of your tantrums and ordered everyone away. Can’t imagine what they all must have thought. You were lucky I was there, to sort out the shit, as usual. Otherwise your disgusting, immature behaviour would be all over the press right now.” He lowered his tone. “You’d be lost without me, Elton. You know that don’t you?”

Elton looked down. “Yes, John. I know that.” He hesitated, before adding; “One last thing. Did I fight with Bernie?”

John glanced at him and rolled his eyes. “You told me you NEVER argue with Bernie.”

Elton cringed. “I think I remember — I think I said something I didn’t— “.  He glared then, “Fuck sake, John! Just tell me! Did I upset Bernie?

John sat down on the bed, his lips curling into a mocking smile. “From what I saw, you had some words with him, before you went on stage.  And not all of them were friendly by the look of it. I wasn’t close enough to hear what you said, and I don’t know if the row escalated afterwards. I assume not because you were,” another smile, “engaged elsewhere.” He ignored Elton’s obvious discomfort at his words and spoke on. “I saw Bernie a few times, wandering around with that poor lost little puppy dog look he does so well. I don’t know if he spoke to you though. I doubt it. You were too busy.”

Again, Elton felt a ripple of shame. “Busy…” he repeated. “With… who?”

John chuckled, leaning in close until his lips were a hairs length from Elton’s, practically touching.

“Don’t worry about it…” he purred. “I dealt with any embarrassing situations. I always do, Elton. You know that. You’ve got nothing to worry your little head about. I’ll always look after you.” He lips brushed against the other man’s, teasing.

Elton wanted to ask about the embarrassing situations but at the same time, he didn’t want to know. Whatever he did… and the thought of just what it could be made his insides churn – it was for the best if he just never knew…

So, he nodded, and bowed his head.

John’s smile was as cold as ice. “Good.” He peered at Elton. “Time to get moving. Why don’t you take a shower, darling? You need to clean yourself up. You’re due in the studio in one hour and it wouldn’t be a good look to be late again.” He frowned. “I’m not making any more excuses for you because you can’t be bothered to get your arse ready in time. Have I made myself clear?

He didn’t bother to wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Elton swallowed hard. How could he possibly get to the studio and record today? How could he be expected to sing? It was impossible. John would just have to deal with this for him and reschedule…

Isn’t that what Elton paid him for?

“I’ve got a sore throat,” he muttered.

John froze in the doorway, his back to Elton. “What?” He threw over his shoulder.

“You said so yourself, I wasn’t at my best last night.” There was a very uncomfortable pause before Elton spoke again. “I’m not up to it this morning, John. Can you please— “

Elton’s words died away as he watched John close the door carefully - and then turn slowly and regard him. The look of utter disgust on john’s face made Elton’s blood run cold. Oh God. What had he just done? He tried to repair the situation.

“I. eh… just for today. I swear I’ll get to the studio tomorrow. I can’t sing today, John. My throat feels like sandpaper. I know we booked it for the week… it’s only Tuesday…”

“It’s Thursday,” came the cold reply.

Elton blinked at that. “Oh… Well… If I could just take some time to myself today… rest my voice.”

“Rest your voice?” John slowly walked back toward him, though his own voice was still calm. “Tomorrow is your last day in the studio and you’ve managed _fuck all_ in that time so far. No tracks laid down. Nothing. And now you’re “too sick” to sing? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m telling you I can’t face it today! It’s not a big deal, John.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “No, not a big deal, Elton. It’s just our business. That’s all.”

“ _We’re running a business, you stupid fucking idiot!”_

Elton suddenly stopped, his eyes widening. He held up a hand in front of him to keep John at bay, and then raised the hand shakily up to his cheek and touching it delicately. It was still sore. He frowned and looked at John again, anger and surprise burning within him.

It wasn’t just the fact that his boyfriend had struck him. Their arguments had grown heated, though not physical before. It was more that John had dared to hit him in public, with passer-by’s looking on.

Elton was furious that John would do that.

“You... you hit me!” He snapped. “And people SAW! You can’t do that, John!”

John raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, I’m the one in the wrong? Me, who has to deal with your tantrums? Not you for making a scene in front of all those people, making us both look like fools? You think THAT is a professional way to behave, do you? Because it’s fucking not.

Elton balled his hands into fists. “I was upset! You KNEW how hard it was for me. You MADE me tell my mum about us… about me… I TOLD you I wasn’t ready, but you forced me!”

John’s eyes were flashing. He was very slightly trembling. Elton was not sure he remembered ever seeing him as angry.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound right now?”

Elton glowered at him. Okay, so John was angry. Well, Elton was angry, too.

Elton puffed out his chest and glared daggers at his boyfriend, his _manager_ , and pointed his finger right in John’s face, his jaw set in frustration.

“John, you don’t ever hit me like that again, especially in front of other people,” he declared, his eyes narrowing.  “You shouldn’t talk to me like that in public either, people were staring! Do you have any idea how humiliating…?”

Before he could go on, John was up in Elton’s face, shoving him hard with both hands so that he stumbled off balance and hit the wall behind him. “Do you have any idea,” he yelled, grabbing Elton’s shoulders and slamming him into the wall with real force; “How humiliating it was for ME to sit there watching you march up those steps like a two year old having a tantrum?”

Elton winced at the painful impact to his back, his entire body tensing in reaction to the violence of John’s actions. He froze, struggling to remain calm in the face of the abuse he hadn’t thought John was capable of. Even after the slap the day before. After all, John loved him, didn’t he? So how could he ever hurt him? REALLY hurt him? He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice low and level when at last he managed to speak.

“You need to stop this. Don’t touch me again! You need to calm down, John.”

He tried to pull away, to slip past John and get out of the room. Just to not be near John, not being alone with him, and go somewhere he could feel safe, seemed like a very good idea to Elton. But John was so much stronger than him in that moment, so much more incensed, that he easily pinned him against the wall, refusing to let go. Elton struggled, but John held his arms, moving in closer and increasing the sense of claustrophobic panic swiftly closing in on Elton’s thoughts.

“It’s not okay for me to do what, Elton?” John snarled, his tone taunting as he lashed out with a vicious backhand across his boyfriend’s face. “This?”

Elton hadn’t even recovered from the first blow when John followed up by slapping him again immediately, the dizzying blow actually forcing Elton’s head to whip painfully to the right-hand side.  Panicking, he tried to push John’s bruising grip away from his arm, but his hands were shaking too hard to put up much of a fight. Regardless, adrenaline kicked in and he shoved at him as hard as he could, now truly worried about what this _stranger_ might do…

“Stop,” he whispered, breathless, desperate. “John, stop this right now!”

John all but snarled at him as he released his hold on his arm, but then took hold of Elton by his hair, grabbing his scalp at the same time, tearing hair out, making to sure to treat him unnecessarily harshly.

“Shall I pull out what’s left of your hair? Shall I? Then none of them will want to look at you, will they? Think about how UGLY you’ll be! She was right, Elton. NO ONE will love you.”

Elton had to get him away from him. Just make him stop… whatever he wanted…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his eyes closed. “I’m sorry, John, please… please don’t…”

“Are you fucking sorry? Are you, Elton!” John snapped, releasing his hold on his hair, but gripping him by the throat instead, dragging him closer.

“ _You make me sick_ ,” he snarled in his ear, with real venom. “You disgust me… You’re lucky I put up with you… no one else ever will… I need to MAKE you understand!”

Neither of them had noticed the door opening slightly and someone quietly enter. That someone stepped into the room, his fists clenched at his sides. Someone who had been listening outside the door for a few moments - and who would not stand by and let this go on for a second longer…

Both of their heads snapped round when they heard his softly spoken, but very clear and firm voice speaking up...

“You _need_ to take your hands off of him, John,” Bernie said softly. “ _Now_.”

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm getting this up sooner than expected. This was going to be the end but I'm feeling inspired and also want to keep this story going so it'll be multi chapter now. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own btw.

John released his hold on Elton at once and turned to face Bernie, a polite, some would say almost innocent, smile on his lips.

“Bernie… I’m sorry. This is a private conversation.” He indicated to the door. “That was closed for a reason.”

There was a long pause as Bernie fixed John with a cold stare. He then went straight to Elton, taking him by the arm gently and turning him away from the other man.

“Are you okay?” He asked him.

Elton didn't reply at once. He looked nervous, still leaning against the wall where John had had him pinned. He was trying to bring his breathing back under control, and had straightened his clothes. He met John's gaze, who was staring at him, unblinking.

After a moment, Elton nodded. “Sure, Bernie. I’m fine. We were just… you know…”

Bernie was looking at him so intently, he couldn’t keep up the eye contact. He glanced away.

His best friend frowned and moved closer to him, trying to comfort him in anyway he could.

“No, I don’t know, Reg. Why don’t you tell me?”

Elton didn’t reply.

John cleared his throat. “Bernie, Elton really doesn’t have time for this right now. We’ve got a packed schedule today and he’s due at the studio in under an hour. So, if you could leave _this_ for later and let Elton make himself presentable…” he smiled politely. “We’d really appreciate it.”

Bernie was watching him. There was no hiding how much he disliked the man.

“John, can you please let the studio know Elton will be cancelling today? I’ll pay for some extra sessions if that’s a problem.”

There was a deathly silence. Elton kept his gaze trained on the ground, refusing to look at either man. John’s cold stare was snapping from him to Bernie and back again, and he was struggling to keep his temper in check. Losing his cool in front of Bernie was completely out of the question. But it was clearly a fight to contain his anger.

“Bernie, Elton has an album to record.”

“Yes I know, John. I wrote it with him,” came the quick reply.

John tilted his head. “Elton, can you please tell Bernie you will see him later if you have the time? And get into the shower?”

Elton hesitated. Finally, he looked up at John.

John tilted his head slightly. “Don’t make me tell you three times…”

Bernie’s face hardened even more at that and he took hold of Elton’s hand and said softly, speaking only to him and not to John. “You don’t have to. We can sort it. Keep the day for yourself today.”

Elton swallowed hard. “No, look, John’s right. You know it’s been going badly in the studio on this record. I can’t waste the time I’m paying for…”

Bernie took a deep breath. He looked at John and wanted to shout out in frustration when he saw the triumphant smirk on his face. Obviously, the Scot had his unshakeable  composure back in place and was again looking like he owned the place.

_Maybe he did._

Bernie forced himself to stay polite. “John, could I have a word with Elton alone, please?”

John’s lips twitched.

“Can’t it wait, Bernie? Maybe I’m not making myself clear enough. We are on a clock here.”

Bernie shrugged. “No. It can’t.”

He kept hold of Elton’s hand. He wasn’t letting him go anywhere without getting to say his piece.

Elton looked down at his hand, squeezed it, and then glanced at Bernie, who nodded encouragingly at him.

Finally, Bernie had won out. “Give us a few minutes, John,” Elton finally told his boyfriend.

Johns eyes narrowed. “You are wasting the studio time you’ve booked—“

Elton balled his hands into fists. “Good job it was MY money then.” He cut across him. Thanks to Bernie’s support, and just the knowledge that he was right there, it had Elton finding some of that old faith in himself again. He nodded to the door. “Let the guys at the studio know I’ll see them tomorrow. Thanks John.”

John looked like he was more than prepared to keep this argument going, but he saw that stubborn glare on Elton’s face, along with the determined look on Bernie’s, and he knew he would have to let this go. For now.

With a curt nod, and cold look to Elton, he turned and walked away, closing the door a little too loudly behind him.

Elton did flinch slightly at the loud noise, but then recovered, bounced on his toes, and managed a small smile.

There was a brief quiet between the pair, neither knowing exactly what to say.

Bernie finally broke the silence first. “You should know – you were brilliant on-stage last night.”

Elton shook his head, “Even I can remember that my throat was fucked.”

Bernie shrugged. “They couldn’t tell.”

Elton rolled his eyes, knowing full well the show wasn’t one of his best. And Bernie knew that too. But it didn’t matter. Bernie knew what Elton needed to hear.

Elton patted his hand. “Thank you…”

Bernie nodded, and then his face broke out into a true smile. He left Elton’s side to retrieve his coffee cup from the table and offered it to him. “I can get you a new cup, if you want?”

Elton shook his head. He sunk down onto the bed, one hand to his forehead, trying to swallow the bile in his throat.

“Before you ask, I don’t know what happened.”

Bernie sighed and took a seat on the bed beside him. “You don’t have to put up with that kind of treatment, you know. Elton, you’re worth so much more than that.”

Elton shrugged.

“Who says so? You? We were both arguing, me and him. You can’t just blame John. It takes two to tango, doesn’t it. Look how I treated you last night?”

Bernie tilted his head. “And why were you so upset, so tense, before the gig last night, huh? What did John do?”

Elton frowned. “Nothing… I was just… you know how I get before a show. It was nothing, Bernie.”

Bernie took his hand. “If he was hurting you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Elton swallowed. “Hurting me? Of course, he isn’t hurting me! It was just a _fight_ , Bernie. Don’t go making more of it.”

“He had you by the throat, mate…”

“Yeah well, I like it rough…”

Bernie shook his head. “I heard what he was saying to you. I saw the look on your face. You were scared of him.”

Elton got to his feet. “I should take that shower…” he said, at once.

Bernie closed his eyes. He had pushed him too far.

“If he’s hurting you— “

Elton turned around abruptly, glaring at him. “You’ve never liked him! That’s why you’re overreacting like this. _It was nothing!_ I gave as good as I got!”

A pause. “That’s not what it sounded like to me…” he spoke so softly, as though every word pained him. Every word did. “Elton, I know I can’t make you walk away from this—

Elton laughed. “And why the hell would I want to walk away from anything? I love him and he loves me. He told me you were jealous of how close the two of us are! That you felt threatened…”

Bernie stared at him incredulously. “Reg, come on. You know that isn’t true.”

Elton was taken aback. He stopped for a moment, catching his breath, clearing his head.

“Bernie, I appreciate your concern. But you’ve got nothing to worry about. John and I are really happy. He treats me fine, in every way. I love him…” he managed a small smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

Bernie stared intently at him. 

“You know you are worth more than what he says you are, don't you, Reggie?” He buried his hands in his pockets. “You know what you mean to me…?”

Elton hesitated, and then looked at him. “Does that mean there’s a chance that you won’t run out on me for a change?”

This time, it was Bernie’s turn to look down.

“Reg…”

Elton eyed him. “You know, you’ve got to stop calling me that.”

There was another uncomfortable pause, before Elton gestured to the door. “Well, thanks for popping by, man. I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll see you later…”

Bernie knew he couldn’t do anything more. Not at that moment. Elton wasn’t ready to listen.

He nodded, “sure. I’ll show myself out. See you tomorrow?”

Elton nodded. “Sounds good.”

There was another moment between them, before Bernie finally gave in, and headed to the door, opening it. He glanced back once but Elton already had his back to him, walking to the bathroom. He sighed, before opening the door and stepping through, closing it softly behind him.

Bernie walked to the stairs, and then glanced back at the closed door, running a hand through his hair absently. He frowned, not wanting to give in but knowing he was fighting a losing battle. With a shake of his head, he took off, pulling out his car keys as went.

John emerged from the next room. He watched Bernie through the landing window as he got into his car and drove away. For the first time, John had felt threatened. As though Bernie could really get in between himself and Elton. That wouldn’t do.

He heard the sound of running water and his lips twitched. He walked back into Elton’s room and made for the ensuite shower room.

~*~

Elton had just turned on the shower, a towel wrapped around his middle, and was preparing to step into the water cascading down when he heard someone opening the door and he lifted his head.

“Bernie?” He said hopefully.

He heard the loud confident footsteps behind him, shoes upon the wood, and he knew it wasn’t Bernie.

Elton didn’t move when the arms enveloped him, creeping around his middle. His breath caught in his throat when he felt John press himself right up behind him.

“Wishful thinking, Elton?” John breathed, tightening his hold.

 Elton chewed on his lower lip.

“John…”

He heard the other man sigh against his neck.

“You shouldn’t have taken his side, love.” John purred. “That was disappointing.”

“I didn’t! John, I…”

“Shush…” His hand moved lower and slipped beneath the towel.

Elton didn’t look round, and he couldn’t help but tense up. He stayed perfectly still as John kissed the back of his neck, nuzzling against him.

“It’s okay, darling,” John whispered in his ear. “We’ll talk about this later…”

And then he pulled away from Elton, who did finally turn and look at him. John winked, and then headed out, dropping the mornings newspapers on the bed, as he passed. Just as Elton had asked for. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Elton waited until he knew John wouldn’t be able to hear him before sinking to his knees on the bathroom floor, his arms wrapped around himself. His body was wracked with sobs, it was as though he couldn’t stop. Struggling to keep his breathing calm, he cried out in anger, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and hurling it at the wall.

He then headed back into his room, making for the bottle of vodka on his dresser. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and lifted it high, gulping it down straight, grimacing from the sour taste.

TBC


	3. chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I just wanted to mention something before posting the chapter. So, I've had some run ins with people on Twitter who seem to think it is "weird, disgusting and disrespectful" to write a fic about a real life abusive relationship, and that I am "romanticising and glorifying" the abuse Elton suffered at John's hands. That is the OPPOSITE of what Im trying to do. I am THE LAST PERSON who would find an abusive relationship exciting or sexy. This fic is going to be more about Bernie and Elton and how Bernie SAVES Elton. It is also based on the characters and their situations from the movie, not on the real people themselves because I don't know them. I would never attempt to do something like that. But this is the question I have: To the people actually reading this (because I doubt the kids on Twitter are) if you want me to stop, tell me. I'm certainly not here to glorify abuse. I'd rather quit now. Anyway... enjoy the chapter.

Bernie glanced at his watch as he pulled once again into Elton’s lavish driveway, already feeling dread building within him. Nearly 9.30am. Despite wanting to see him, Bernie really hoped Elton wouldn’t be awake this early. He had better not be. What he needed was sleep. Lots of it.

He had promised his friend that he would check up on him the next day and he wasn’t about to let Elton down now. He was just so worried about what state Elton could be in when he did see him. It had given him a sinking feeling all last night – he’d hardly slept – he just couldn’t stop thinking about how scared Elton had looked when he’d walked in.

The worry was eating Bernie up inside.

Two of Elton’s staff came out to greet him and Bernie gave them a friendly smile. The boy, Reid’s assistant, opened the door for Bernie and gave him a flirty smile. Bernie nodded in return and asked, “Is Elton inside?”

The assistant, Jonathan, shook his head. “No, Mr Taupin. Mr Reid and Mr E left an hour ago. They were due in the studio this morning.”

Bernie frowned.

“I thought it was agreed between Elton and John that Elton wouldn’t be going back in the studio this week? I thought yesterday was the last day they had booked, and Elton wasn’t up to it?”

Jonathan looked uncertain.

“I’m sorry, Mr Taupin. I don't know about any of that. I'm only aware of the schedule for today. Studio until 3pm, then two interviews, plus a photo shoot for Time Magazine, and then dinner and a party with John and Yoko tonight…”

Bernie was not impressed. “Sounds like a packed schedule considering Elton needed a rest?”

Again, the assistant shrugged.

Bernie took a deep, calming breath. “Fine. I’ll go to the studio myself then.”

The assistant jumped to action. “Absolutely. I’ll get the address for you—”

“I already know it…” Bernie said, with some annoyance.

Jonathan paused, hearing his tone. And then realised his error.

“Of course. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Forget it,” Bernie snapped. “I’ll speak to “Mr Reid” about it. I don’t want him over working Mr John anymore.” Speaking more to himself, he mused: “He looked ready to drop after his gig two nights ago and he’s _still_ not letting him stop.” Seeing Jonathan's discomfort, Bernie softened his tone. “Look, it’s not your problem. I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”

Jonathan gave him a grateful nod.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, politely. “Something to eat or drink, while you’re here?”

Bernie managed a small smile.

_I need to get John Reid as far away from Elton as possible…_

He didn’t voice his thoughts. Instead, he replied, “No, I’ll get a can of coke on the way. Thanks though. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he got back inside the car, giving the staff a polite wave as he drove away from the kerb and headed back up the drive.

He tightened his hold on the steering wheel. So, as usual, John had gotten his own way. He had better not have raised his fists this time... Bernie could only hope that Elton was dealing with things better than he had the other night.

And if John had raised a hand to him again, well, then Bernie would stop at nothing until he got his best friend away from that man.

And that was a promise.

~*~

Elton had been sitting in the small recording room for about an hour, going over and over the same track, the title track from the album he had been recording for weeks. And this was the last week available to him and he could NOT get this track right. John had told him it was the obvious first single – that he HAD to get it perfect but his playing and his singing – they weren’t up to standard. Everyone there knew it. No one better than Elton himself though. For what felt like the hundredth time, he heard the producers voice over the microphone:

“Elton, why don't we stop for an early lunch. Come back to this later?”

Elton sighed. “That's not going to help, Gus. This is the last day. I know the strings you and John had to pull to make this happen. I've got interviews this afternoon, a photo shoot. We don't have the time. I need to get this right.”

Gus considered him. “I think you need a few hours out. Maybe we all do.”

He turned around to the men around him, who had all been working on this record for weeks. “We're all going to take a time out, okay?” He gestured. “Let Elton recharge his batteries...”

“That's not necessary, Gus.” came that Scottish drawl. “He's fine...”

Elton, who had been clearing up his music and his notes, stopped when he saw John in the next room. His boyfriend turned and faced him, and Elton could see he wasn't impressed. He sat back down at his piano, with a weary sigh and a shake of his head.

“One more time?” He called out to Gus.

Gus looked at Elton, and then at John, who nodded encouragingly.

“Give us a minute guys,” he said, and all the others in the room filed out, leaving Gus and John alone.

The producer waited until the door was closed, and then sat down opposite John.

“I can't do this today.” A beat. “ _He_ can't.”

A shrug.

“We've paid for the time.”

“I realise that, John. But he's dead on his feet.”

John smiled. “He's fine.”

“He's not.”

“We need to get this track finished, Gus.”

“You are telling me this record is more important than Elton's well-being?”

John leaned back against the sound desk. “He just needs a few good night’s sleep which he can get next week. I've booked a holiday for both of us, some time away. He won't have to worry about anything but himself, and I'll make sure he gets the rest he needs. You have my word.”

Gus wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. It was clear he didn't believe what he was hearing.

He paused for a moment. “Look, John. I don't think the song is working as it is. We need a rethink. And he needs a proper break.”

John sighed and leaned forward. “You know I always get him back on his feet.” He said, in hushed tones. “I get him through the hard times, and this is just another. But we are PAYING you to produce this album. And to make it _fucking_ good. So how about you stop telling me what my client needs to do and instead get on and do the fucking job we are paying you a fortune for?”

Gus was completely taken aback. John had turned so quickly. And now that dark look in his eyes that had come over him so suddenly was gone again and the calm and contained man was back in his place. Finally, Gus nodded and leaned forward, hitting the button next to the microphone.

“One more time...” He accepted and called everyone back in the room. John stood back, satisfied, as Elton began to play... and then he sang the opening line, though his voice sounded strained and forced.

“ _When are you gonna come down?”_

“ _When are you going to land?”_

Gus glanced over at John, though he didn't speak. They both knew it wasn't right, that the vocal wasn't anywhere near strong enough but Gus knew John wouldn't listen to him. Not when he was being this tunnel-visioned.

Elton suddenly stopped playing, sitting perfectly still.

Gus hesitated.

“Elton?”

Elton didn't respond to him. He just sat there.

John visibly bristled. “What’s he doing?” He demanded.

Gus clenched his fists. He pressed the button again. “Elton, do you want to go again?”

Elton smirked. He turned and looked at Gus incredulously.

“Why?” He asked, with a sarcastic tone.

Gus knew what was coming now. This was all too familiar.

“Elton, do you want to start again?” He tried again.

Elton picked up the glass of vodka on the top of the piano, chuckled sarcastically to himself, and muttering to himself. He took a sip and then smirked at Gus.

“What do you think?” He shot back. “I know how I sound, and I sound fucked.”

Gus looked to John for help, who shook his head, and swore angrily under his breath. He forced Gus to one side and spoke harshly into the microphone:

“Elton! We have two hours to get this done- “

“Fuck off!” Elton snapped back at him. He got to his feet, picked up the glass and threw it at the wall.

John was clearly having problems keeping his own temper at bay. That was John – always had to be professional – unless Elton tipped him over the edge. Gus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. He’d seen it all before. He knew he wouldn’t get anything else from Elton today unless he played this right.

“I think we’re done for the morning session…” He told the room. “Break for lunch?”

His assistants and operators all headed for the door as quickly as they were able. They avoided making eye contact with the raging pop star in the studio… now clearly spoiling for a fight and grabbing and throwing anything he could get his hands on… They also didn’t look at his manager, quietly seething as he watched him, all barely contained fury.

Gus looked at John. “See you in an hour. Try to get some honey and lemon into him, yeah?”

And he left the room after his team, leaving John alone.

John took a moment, still watching Elton storming around the recording studio, shouting randomly. Well, at him. Obviously. But John would not react to this latest childish outburst. Elton was angry with him, disappointed with himself. He had also had too much to drink, typically. And this was the response.

John straightened his suit and then walked into the recording studio, closing the door quietly behind him. He faced Elton, giving him a disapproving look.

“Have you finished?” He asked him.

Elton glowered at him. “Finished with you. With us? Yes actually. Won’t do you fuck off and leave me alone?”

John took a deep breath. “Elton, this isn’t helping anything. Now why don’t you tell me what you need?”

Elton moved closer. “I NEED you to get off my back. Tell me, John. Do you even care about the pressure I’m under?”

John blinked. “Pressure you’ve caused all to yourself. You’re worried about the record, but you are the one that has screwed it up. No one else.”

“I know I sound like shit. I knew this was too much this week. The gigs, tv appearances and now this. I TOLD you I needed a break. Bernie told you too, didn’t he? I guess Bernie just knows me best.”

John was visibly angry at the mere mention of Bernie. Never mind the suggestion that he knew Elton better than John himself did. John knew that was the case, of course he knew, but he didn’t want to hear it. HE was the one who had worked his backside off to keep everything ticking over for years. He was the one who had opened up completely to Elton, giving him everything he could. Mind, body and soul. He didn’t need to hear about Bernie. He didn’t need to be reminded how he would never know Elton the way Bernie did.

“And again, you are embarrassing both of us. This isn’t professional! In front of Gus, and the others! You think your precious Bernie would accept this? Would anyone?”

Elton was suddenly in his face. “I don’t fucking _care_. I’m going home! I’m done! This is fucking SHIT!” He yelled, showering the other man with spittle.

John seethed, and quickly raised his hand. Elton flinched, recoiling at once. He had prepared himself for the blow he had believed was coming. John looked at him and stopped. He took a deep breath, and then stroked Elton’s hair back, and ran a finger down Elton’s cheek instead.

“Darling, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered.

Elton met his gaze. He sounded choked as he replied: “You did last night. You really hurt me. You kicked me.”

John sighed. “I was angry. You made me so angry, baby…”

Elton looked down. “I didn’t mean to.”

John watches him for a moment, considering. He then knew the time had come to change tact. Having Elton so nervous of him wasn’t helpful. He smiled at him, and then took his hand, bringing it to his lips. “It hurts seeing you with Bernie. You know that.”

“Bernie’s straight. How many times do I have to tell-?”

John cut across him. “I know he’s straight. I don’t mean that. I know I’ll never be able to understand you the way he does. You’ll never be as open to me as you are with him. I know that and I’ve accepted it. But it’s hard…”

Elton hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to respond. John suddenly looked so vulnerable, so hurt.

Finally, Elton leaned forward and pressed his lips to the other man's. “You know I love you, right? You know I’d do anything for you? Right, John?”

John smiled. And kissed him back, taking Elton into his arms. “Tell you what,” he purred in his ear. “Try and get the session finished today. Try and get the song right and then next week, we can have a break. Get away from all of this, just the two of us. Away from the parties, and the craziness and all the hoopla. I was thinking the Swiss Alps. We could rent out a ski lodge. How does that sound, darling? You, me, crackling fire, snuggled up against the cold… No one else around for miles?”

It sounded perfect. Suddenly, Elton was calm. He kissed John again and cuddled against him. This was all he wanted. All he needed. The man’s love.

“That sounds like exactly what I need.”

John took hold of the back of Elton's head and held him in place as he kissed him, the kiss becoming more passionate as it went on. When he pulled back, he had left Elton breathless. John smiled lovingly.

“Do you feel better now?”

Elton nodded. “I'll be fine.”

“Good enough to get back to work...?”

Elton rolled his eyes, and squeezed John's butt cheek. “All work and no play...”

John laughed. “We've got plenty of time to play.”

“I could do with some hot water, honey and lemon. Clear my throat. Then we can go again.”

John nodded. “I'll sort that for you. Why don't you wait in here, okay? And stay away from that smashed glass, we don't need you getting cut to ribbons.”

Elton was so much calmer now. Like all the dramatics had just died away. He sat back down at the piano and begun to play. The keys suddenly felt like they were working with him again, not against him. He smiled to himself. Now, he was ready.

John nodded contently, and then headed back out of the studio, finding Gus waiting in the corridor. The two of them moved out of the hallway, making for the small meeting room through the main door. Gus closed the door quietly, and then turned to face John.

“How did you get on? Have you calmed him down?”

John was smug.

“You know me. I always get him back on his feet. He's absolutely fine. Already playing better.”

Gus was conflicted.

“I want to get this track done. Its a special song. But you have to take care of him. Don't take the piss.”

John sighed. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Have I ever let you down. Has Elton?”

“No,” Gus said, at once. “Neither of you have.” He conceded. “Okay. We'll give everyone the hour and then we'll get back to it. And we'll make sure that this amazing song sounds fucking incredible before we're done...”

John patted his back. “Sounds good to me...” John looked around. “Where is everyone? I mean, the staff? Don't we have any assistants yet. I want that wrecked glass cleared out of the studio. I don't like Elton--” He paused. “Well, it's not good to have shards of glass on the studio floor is it?”

Gus nodded and they headed back, aiming to have everything prepared before starting the next session.

As they walked, they talked about the album, both of them much more joyful now, suddenly feeling a lot more positive about what the day would bring.

“I meant to say,” Gus was saying, “What do you think to Saturday Nights Alright being the first single?”

John frowned. “I thought this track, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” had lead single written all over it...”

Gus made a disagreeing noise. “I want Yellow Brick Road perfect and so does Elton. Saturday Night is his best vocal on this album so far. I'm telling you man. This is an EXCITING record. And Yellow Brick Road is the most exciting of the lot. If we can get that perfect vocal out of Elton now…”

He broke off. He could hear voices coming from the recording studio. Someone was in there with Elton. Someone who didn't have clearance to be in there. Everyone else had left for lunch. John shrugged. “Maybe someone got in there to clear up that glass...”

They hurried back into the recording studio… and found Elton sitting where they had left him, in front of his piano. And he was singing softly as he played, warming up his voice. A glass of hot honey and lemon was placed on the piano – and Bernie was perched on a chair beside him, whispering to him as he played, encouraging him and making suggestions, scribbling on his pad.

“Oh hi...” Bernie said to the newcomers. “I let myself in. Don't know if you remembered,” he looked at John. “I still have a key.”

John tilted his head slightly. “Of course, Bernie. You are always welcome.”

Bernie smiled. “I'm sure.” He jerked his head at the smashed glass in the corner of the room. “Maybe someone can get that cleared up, its quite dangerous.” And then, “John?”

John balled his hands into fists, but otherwise didn't react. He didn't need to. It was obvious that the man was seething, even though he kept that arrogant smile firmly fixed on his lips.

“You got it, Bernie. I’ll get right onto that. Wouldn’t want you to cut yourself, would we?”

Bernie gave him a subtle little wink. “Thanks.”

Elton's lips twitched but otherwise he didn't react. John seemed to grow even more still.

There was an uncomfortable silence.  

Finally, Gus cleared his throat. He moved ahead of John, going straight for Bernie, grasping his hand. “Good to see you, Bernie. How are you man?”

Bernie beamed. “Good, Gus. You?”

John raised his hand.

“If I may interject..” He snapped. “Bernie… Again, this is not a good time for a visit… You seem to be making a habit of it....”

“Actually,” Gus broke in, apparently not noticing the icy atmosphere. “Elton’s already sounding better, John… Guess all he needed was Bernie, huh?” He laughed and clapped John on the back. “Okay, let’s get this done.”

John smiled and nodded at the other man. “I guess so.” And then his eyes again met Bernie’s.

Elton looked content. He was ready to party. He nudged against Bernie and smiled at him. Bernie nudged him back. They giggled.

John’s lips curled.

Gus nodded, still apparently unaware of the bad feeling. “OK, we’re all set. When you’re ready, Elton.” And then added: “Are you sticking around, Bernie?”

Bernie smiled. Though his eyes were locked on John.

“Yeah, Gus.” Bernie replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so after some research ive found out Goodbye Yellow Brick Road was recorded in France and London, not LA. So for the sake of this fic and me wanting to use my fave Elton album, I've used some artistic licence!


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